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June 07, 2001: Six more weeks

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As the wedding gets closer and closer, invariably the first question people ask me when they see me is 'How are the wedding plans going?' And my answer, lately, is "Not too bad. My mom and I are managing to keep things down to only one small panic per week."

They think I'm kidding, of course, but I'm not. So far we've had to deal with:

  • Delayed printing for invitations
  • Disappearing seamstresses
  • Dance troupes that never respond to email
  • Miscommunication on bridal showers and bachelorette parties and timing of such
  • Bridal party members who live too far away so getting them fitted now becomes an exercise in miracles
  • Rotating photographers

Well, you get the picture.

The good news is that, so far, each and every catastrophe has been dealt with in a satisfactory manner. But while it's going on, both my mom and I are tense, and my dad and Richard are stuck in the middle. Richard gets to listen to me whine or rant or whatever mode is appropriate for that weeks' wedding-related fiasco, usually with a slightly befuddled expression on his face and an offer of assistance. The only thing he can do, of course, is just to listen and let me get it all out - something he does admirably - and reassure me that it will all work out somehow.

There's only six more weeks til the wedding. My mom and I really don't want to know what else is going to crop up. It doesn't seem like a very long time until you look at it in terms of minor catastrophes., but my mother tends to be queen of worst case scenarios and there are times lately, with the most recent crisises, that it's gettting harder and harder to bite my tongue.

Things will all work themselves out somehow. I just have to keep reminding myself, and my Mom, of that.

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